


Snart's Seven

by Jael



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Casinos, F/M, Gen, Heist, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: Leonard Snart is back in Central City, and he's not happy about the changes since he's been gone. It'll take a team effort, though, to shake the hold Vandal Savage has on his city.Fortunately, he has a team.
Relationships: CaptainCanary - Relationship, Sara Lance/Leonard Snart, Team Legends - Relationship
Comments: 39
Kudos: 50





	1. Back in Town

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it's not a Christmas story like I'd planned to write. I've been watching and reading a few too many heist stories lately, apparently. I can live with that. Inspired by (but not totally following) Ocean's 11.
> 
> It will take a few chapters to show up, but this will go CaptainCanary. Of course it will.
> 
> Sorry I've been so missing over the past...well, year. It's been a rough one. But I wish every one of you a happy New Year and merry holidays, whatever you celebrate. <3

Central City looked just the same as he remembered it.

Leonard Snart let out a deep and rather satisfied sigh as he got out of the cab in downtown, stepping away from the curb and running his eyes over the skyline as the vehicle pulled away behind him.

 _Home_.

Technically, after the pardon, he could have come back at any time during the past few years, but it’d seemed wise to just stay away for a time. Let Lisa create an identity without him and move on in that identity. Give Mick the chance to do so as well. Although he had a pretty good idea how that had…

“Hey, boss.”

Len closed his eyes, smiled ruefully, and then glanced toward the voice, that of his oldest friend. “Mick.”

Mick Rory hadn’t changed much in the past few years. Still scowling. Still scarred. Still built like a brick wall as he stood there, arms folded, watching Leonard. But there was…just perhaps…a hint of a smile around his lips, and Len let an answering expression cross his own face as he strolled toward him.

“Good to see you,” he drawled, ready for either an attempted punch or mere indifference. (Not a hug. They weren’t huggers.) “Missed this place.”

Mick snorted, but enough amusement lit his eyes to make Len relax just a little. “It missed you,” the bigger man shot back. “Been too boring around here. Hope we can liven it up a little.”

That drew an answering chuckle. Len out-and-out smirked at him, even daring to clap his friend on the back as he approached. “Oh. I think…I think we can manage _that_.”

For a moment, the two men smirked at each other. And then…Mick started in one direction, as Leonard started confidently in another.

The former man was the first—well, the only—to stop, looking over his shoulder as his friend sauntered in the opposite direction. “Boss…”

“Trust me, Mick. Trust me.”

* * *

The hotel was Central City’s finest. Len hummed to himself as he strolled into the penthouse suite, dropping his bag, and rolling up his cuffs as Mick skulked into behind him, glancing around the spacious area and shrugging uncomfortably.

“For fuck’s sake, Snart,” he muttered, looking around. “What the hell are you payin’ for this? I thought…”

“Nothing I can’t afford.” Leonard went to the huge windows looking out of the city and gazed out, linking his hands behind his back. “So. Who’s up in the city these days?”

“Err.” Mick drifted toward him, still looking a bit ill at ease but also trying to hide it. “Well, since they started the casinos, a lot of the old crime bosses are gone. Forced out. But…”

A knock at the door…and both men froze.

After a long moment, Leonard turned on his heel and strolled toward the door, looking just about as insouciant as he had before. Mick looked after him, blinking, then shook his head and followed—patting for the gun under his gun and wondering, just as he always did, what his friend and partner was getting them into now.

Whatever he might have expected, it wasn’t even remotely what happened.

The person outside rapped on the door again just as Leonard glanced through the peephole, snorted, and yanked the door open, far quicker than Mick was comfortable with. They had a split-second look at the tall, weedy-looking man in the long brown coat on the other side—before the man in question held up an odd-looking instrument and blinded them both with an incandescent flash of light.

When Mick came to, he was sprawled on the penthouse floor, hand still on his gun, blinking at the ceiling and wishing that the spots in his vision would go away. But as reason returned, he bounded (as much as a man his size could bound) to his feet and glanced wildly around the suite before moving to the door and checking the hallway.

Nothing.

Snart and their assailant, whomever he might be, were gone.

* * *

While Mick Rory didn’t know it, his boss, partner, and friend was waking up nearly to the moment he did—though not in such comfortable circumstances. Leonard Snart blinked for a moment, too, before he immediately started testing the cuffs around his wrists and the ropes around his ankles, craning his neck to get a better view of the nondescript room in which he found himself…and thoroughly ignoring the man sitting across from him.

After a long moment, the man—the very same in the long brown coat who’d been at the door—sighed, a long-suffering tone that Snart continued to ignore, and cleared his throat.

“Mr. Snart,” he said in a crisp British accent. “Your attention for a moment, please? I’ve been tasked to make you an…offer.”

Perhaps making a point…definitely making a point…the other man continued to study the room at large for a few minutes longer before he finally directed his attention toward the Brit, lifting an eyebrow in clear question rather than speaking out loud.

The silence stretched. And then the man in the coat sighed again.

“Well. Yes.” He arranged his hands on the table in front of him, studying them a moment before looking back up at Snart. “You have a reputation for working miracles of a rather…criminal…sort, despite your currently ‘clean’ record, as arranged by…parties unknown.” Another pause as Snart stared silently at him. “A group of which I am a part wishes you to run what you might call a ‘job’ of sorts on a…rogue party.”

Snart eyed him, then shrugged. “No.”

“I assure you that…” The other man blinked. “What?”

“No.” Snart shrugged again, this time pulling his hands…now utterly free of cuffs…from under the table and resting them on its top. After only a moment, he reached down to tug at the rope at his ankles, pulling it back up to coil it up on the tabletop. His erstwhile captor stared at it as he stretched, cracking his spine, and rested his hand behind his head, studying the other man while mild interest.

“No,” he said a third time. “I don’t think so. At least, not unless you give me a much better reason than you have so far. You have a minute or two. Then I think I’ll be going. I have better things to be doing in my city, and I have no idea whatsoever who you even are.”

Another blink. Then, “My name is Rip Hunter…”

Another snort. “And _that’s_ a pseudonym if I’ve ever heard one…” Snart waved a hand idly as the other man puffed up in indignation. “Go on.”

“…and as I said, I’ve been tasked to offer you a job. One that should prove extremely lucrative—as well as reputation making _and_ …” He lifted a hand as Snart rolled his eyes at the notion that his reputation needed any help whatsoever. “…potentially quite beneficial to what you term ‘your city.’”

That, at least, got a raised eyebrow. “Go on.”

Hunter looked vaguely relieved. He folded his hands again on the tabletop and leaned forward, eyes direct. “Things have changed since you left this city, Mr. Snart…”

“I know. The state authorized casinos, and Central City jumped on the chance.”

“ _And_ it took less than a year for the city’s crime bosses to reinvent themselves as so-called ‘legitimate’ businessmen so they could get in on the money.” Hunter kept going doggedly as Snart tried to drawl over him again. “The ones who’d been in the city first… _and_ the ones who came for new opportunities.”

That finally got a look of some interest, though Snart didn’t so much as twitch from his casual posture. “Do tell.”

“I daresay you’ve been keeping up on news during your self-imposed exile…” Hunter’s tone was dry as dust; Snart shrugged. “…so you probably know the names. The pertinent one for our current conversation, however, is that of Vandal Savage.”

He paused. Snart kept the same mild listening look on his face—concealing his amusement at the other man’s reaction of slight disappointment at no greater response.

“Well,” the Brit continued after a moment, “Savage entered the scene as a relative newcomer and unknown—at least in Central City. As we speak today, he owns three of the most prominent and lucrative casinos on the strip.”

“The Palace, the Throne, and the Temple,” Snart noted casually. “I’ve heard. Last one apparently makes Vegas’s Luxor look like a rent-by-the-hour place.”

Hunter didn’t seem amused. “And built no less than the original one on death and suffering,” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “And I mean the _original one_ in Egypt, near the temples and the pyramids and more. Slave-built, all of them. Blood as mortar.”

Snart narrowed his eyes in turn at the theatrics. “Dramatic,” he drawled, leaning back. “Your point?”

“My _point_ , as you say, Mr. Snart, is that Savage is bad news, even though he’s currently beloved of the city leaders—and beyond.” The other man straightened, attitude righteous, even as he dragged in a deep breath. “And the people who sent me…they know it. They want to end his reign over Central City.”

“You want an assassin, then.” Snart stretched casually again, though there was something odd in his voice. “Not me.”

Hunter blinked. “What? No. I mean…I suppose that would work, but…” He visibly shook himself. “If his empire is brought down, if he’s humiliated and broke, it will serve the purpose. And you’re the right person for that, I believe.”

“And what’s in it for me, again?”

“Whatever you get from Savage and his properties, you keep,” Hunter informed him. “And you have the pleasure of knowing you’ve helped your city and its people.” He paused. “Including many of those you’ve worked with before. Making sure he can’t hurt them again.”

Snart leaned forward again abruptly, demeanor intent. “What do you mean?”

“Ask your sist…” Hunter suddenly found himself unable to breath, due to Snart’s fist clutched around his neck. The thief was now leaning over the table, having moved like a striking snake at that word.

“What do you _mean_?” he gritted out again, giving Hunter a shake.

The man sputtered, hands grasping at the hand around his throat, eyes wide, and Snart grudgingly loosened his grip.

“I mean,” Hunter gasped, struggling to get air into his lungs, “that Savage has not been an asset to the rest of the criminal underbelly in this city. Even to those who were once associated with that underbelly, really.” He dragged in a breath. “While you’ve been out of town…and your sister has left town…I daresay she’ll know those who suffered due to Savage. Not necessarily she herself!”

Snart released him abruptly, and the Brit subsided back into his chair, hand going to his likely bruised throat as he simply breathed for a moment. The thief turned away and stalked to the other end of the room, staring at the blank wall a moment before turning on his heel and walking back.

“Believe me, I will ask,” he informed the still stunned-looking Hunter. “But say you’re right. I need the money to hire a crew.”

“I said you’ll all get the proceeds…”

“Hypothetical ‘proceeds’ don’t pay anyone’s rent.” Snart glowered down at the other man. “I’d need the best of the best. A crew of at least 12. And talent doesn’t come easily.”

Hunter had recovered enough now to rise to his feet, glaring at the thief. “How much?” he gritted out.

Snart named a number. Hunter paled but didn’t back down. After a moment, he countered with a smaller number. “A smaller crew is less likely to be made. Twelve is too many.”

After a few moments of haggling, Hunter finally grudgingly stuck his hand out for a shake. Snart curled his lip at it but shook.

“I need a way to get in touch with you and your bosses,” he told the other man. “For…reasons. Information. Payment. And the possibility that they’re feeding me a colossal line of shit and I need to tell them to take a giant fucking leap off a short pier.”

Hunter looked pained at the possibility, but he reached into his coat—slowly—and extended a slip of paper to Snart anyway.

“My number,” he said. “I expect confirmation of your acceptance by this time tomorrow, or the deal is off. And Mr. Snart?”

The thief lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Do not forget that while you were our first choice…you were not the only one.” Hunter lifted a hand to touch his throat, which would likely show bruises the new day. “Play games, and you’ll be replaced.”

That got a bark of laughter.

“Oh, maybe you’ll try,” Snart told him as he turned on a heel and headed for a door. “You’ll try.”

He stopped right before departing, blue eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“That doesn’t even remotely mean that you’ll succeed.”

* * *

Mick was not in a good place.

None of his phone calls or investigations had turned up any sign of Snart in the past hour, not even from those who were the most in the know at everything going on in the criminal underworld of Central City. And while he’d tried to be circumspect with the queries, people now had to know that the legendary Leonard Snart was not only back in Central City…but that he was missing.

The big man sat at the desk in the penthouse suite…the one Snart was paying for…staring at his phone and willing it to ring. With good news. Hell, with any news at all. If he didn’t hear something soon, well…

A faint noise sounded behind him, at the locked door, and Mick jerked to his feet, putting a hand on the gun concealed under his coat, wondered if the person who’d taken Snart had come back for him too, if…

But before his eyes, it was Leonard Snart himself who shoved open the door and sauntered into the room, looking as calm and unruffled as if he’d never been kidnapped from his own fucking hotel room. He closed the door and locked it behind it, then continued into the room. After a few steps, though, he stopped in his tracks and eyed Mick, who took his hand off the gun with a feeling of vague and inexplicable embarrassment, and then continued into the room, finally sinking down into one of the plush armchairs with an air of finality.

Then…and only then…did he let his shoulders relax just a little. Mick breathed out a little. Snart might not be showing it much, but he’d been rattled too.

“Boss?” he said tentatively. “You OK?”

“Peachy.” Snart waved a hand. “Have a seat, Mick. We need to talk.”


	2. I've Got This

“I was just about to tell you about Savage, actually,” Leonard’s partner and friend admitted eventually, after Len had filled him in on at least the basics of what he’d learned and where he’d been. “I mean…I haven’t been in the city much myself. Just got back a day ‘fore you did.”

“Then where were…” Len waved a hand. “Oh, never mind. What do you know?”

“Just that this Hunter guy is right about that at least. Savage is bad news, says the word on the street. Lots of people have left town—or, uh, ‘left town.’”

Leonard’s eyes narrowed. “There have been deaths.” It wasn’t quite a question.

“Nothin’ proven.” Mick got up and started pacing. “Pretty sure Rathaway just left. But the Mardons…I have a bad feeling about what happened to them. Mark tried to pull something at one of the Savage casinos, and they haven’t been seen since. Same with Bivolo.” He turned. “And Jesse…he tried to pull one of his dumb pranks in the Temple. Security nabbed him. And…well, the next time anyone saw him, he…”

Mick paused. Leonard prompted him, an odd shiver going down his spine. “He…?”

“Well. Y’know Jesse. He’s always, uh, marched to his own drummer. But…” Mick rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s in the med wing at Iron Heights. Won’t talk. Source told me he just starts screaming if you ask him what happened. Terrified, like. Not a mark on him, though.”

“Hmm. And…”

“And Scudder and Dillon…well, they’re working for Savage.” Mick shrugged. “Scudder’s always thought he was the big man in Central, and I still think he meant to take over from you. But that only lasted as long as it took for Savage to settle in. They were yapping at his heels like, immediately.”

Leonard dismissed Scudder and Dillon with a wave of his hand. He’d never had much respect for either of them. He was quiet a long moment after, and Mick let him be, crossing to the bar and pouring himself a drink, parking himself against the windowsill and waiting.

After that moment, Snart got to his feet. Nodded to Mick. And left the room silently, without a word.

Mick grunted and went to pour himself another drink. Snart wasn’t the sort who’d be hurried.

* * *

The phone rang, three times.

And then Lisa answered, with a startled “Lenny?”

Leonard blew out a near-silent breath of relief, leaning against the railing out on the balcony and staring out at the city. “Lisa. How are you?”

“I’m good.” His sister sounded puzzled. “In National City at the moment. Lenny, are you all right? You sound…off.”

“I’m OK.” He took a deep breath and looked up, out at the stars. “Back in Central, actually.”

“Oh.” His little sister’s voice was subdued, now. “Um. _Are_ you all right? I mean…”

“I am.” Leonard waited a moment, then asked, “You left before the casinos opened, didn’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“Man called Savage. Do you know…”

“He’s trouble,” his sister cut in sharply. “I mean, really. Seriously, that’s how you open this conversat…”

“Lisa.” Len kept his voice level. “How so? He didn’t…hurt you? Who…”

“No. No, I’m OK.” Lisa sighed. “Shawna…uh, she tried to get in, to see if she and her boyfriend could pull something there. And…”

Silence. Len prompted, “And?”

“The guards dumped her outside. She doesn’t remember what happened, but she was in bad shape. Concussion, broken arm, ” Lisa sounded both angry and scared. “And Parker…she hasn’t seen him since.”

“Hmmm.” Leonard hadn’t had much use for Parker. But…the fear in Lisa’s voice…

“Stay away from him, Lenny. Better yet, get outta Central. I know you, and…”

“Where is Baez now?”

“I got her out of town. I owed her that much. Seriously , Lenny.” Lisa sounded nearly in tears. “Don’t fuck with Savage. He’s not your usual Central creep. The city leaders, they love him. And…”

“I’ve got it, Lis. Let me know if you need anything, OK? And don’t worry.” He took a deep breath. “Just stay away.”

“Lenny…”

“I’ve got this.”

* * *

When Len sauntered back into the suite, Mick could tell immediately that he’d made up his mind. And that his decision didn’t bode well for Savage…or for them, depending on how things fell out. Still, he shrugged and downed the rest of his drink. He knew Snart, and all he could do now was buckle in. Might be a bumpy ride.

But he’d be damned if he wasn’t there for it.

“We’re going after Savage,” Snart told him, voice terse and eyes already focused on some goal that Mick couldn’t see. “Small team. Me. You, if you’re in…”

“You know it.”

Snart didn’t waste time on gratitude. “Good. We need a tech…” He started pacing the room in long, intent strides, eyes fixed on some distant goal. Mick knew that look. “A mechanic. A card sharp. Hmm. Muscle.”

“Haircut for the tech,” Mick cut in, grudgingly, shrugging when Snart stopped short and fixed him with that piercing gaze. “He’s good. I know he’s a pain in the ass…”

“That doesn’t quite cover it.”

“…but he knows his shit. And this will appeal to that whole Boy Scout thing he’s got goin’ on.”

Snart huffed a little, but after a moment, he shrugged.

“OK,” he said, turning away. “Palmer. You bring him in, though. I’m not.”

“Got it, boss.”

* * *

**Scene change: two days later**

**Star City**

Mick rapped on the door in the old, converted factory, waited a minute, then shrugged and shoved the door (labeled with a small sign, “Palmer Industries”) open. Haircut wasn’t great at paying attention when he got really involved in some project. And there was _always_ a project.

Palmer was poised at the desk against the opposite wall, typing away furiously and switching his attention back and forth between the multiple screens in front of him. To all appearances, he never even heard Mick enter.

Mick sighed, closing the door behind him—and locking it. “Haircut!” he barked, amused to see the inventor jerk upright and look behind himself with wide eyes. “Seriously? You don’t even lock the door?”

“Mick!” Ray Palmer sprang—sort of—to his feet, grinning (albeit a bit nervously) at the other man. “Hey! You should have called. Um…” He rubbed the back of his head, looking around. “It’s not much. But…”

“Calm down, Haircut.” Mick rolled his eyes. “Not here to investigate your lab. Or all your gadgets.” He ambled over to a nearby table and picked up a doohickey that looked like a cross between a watch and a…well, some other weird gadget. “Whatever they are.”

“Um…well, you might want to put that down…if you’ve got a cell phone on you…really…”

Mick put the doohickey down with alacrity. He knew the damage Palmer’s gadgets could do.

He wasn’t sure why Ray Palmer wasn’t a multi-millionaire, given that the man really was a fuckin’ genius. (Though he’d never tell him so.) Gave away a bit too much of that money, maybe. To charity, or to his own family. (There was a brother, he knew. Haircut didn’t mention him much.) Who knew? But Palmer, while an utter Boy Scout, was susceptible to the allure of money. And if he gave it away, well, that wasn’t any of Mick’s business.

They’d met when Palmer had been dragged in on another job, for a criminal boss outta Star City, and hadn’t even known what he’d gotten into. (He’d apparently thought he was helping bust a crime ring, not helping one.) Mick, in on the same job without Snart, for once, had inexplicably felt bad for the poor schmuck and helped him get out of it in one piece.

The inventor had been grateful, and the next time Snart needed a techie for a job, Mick had recommended him. (Palmer got nervy at being on the wrong side of the law, but since Snart often tended to take on other Central “bad guys,” he’d apparently made his peace with it. Especially with the job three years ago that had earned both Snart and Mick their pardons.)

“Gotta a job proposition for you,” Mick said, glancing around. “This place secure?”

Palmer blinked at him. “Uh. Yeah, sure.” He picked up another gadget, one that looked a bit like a tuning fork, and gave it a flick with a finger. A low hum started, and he set it back down with a shrug, glancing around. “Even if there is anything in here…I don’t _think_ there is…that will disable it. What’s up?”

Mick eyed the device, then shrugged. “Right. So, you know about the casinos in Central?”

“Well, yeah.” The inventor blinked, leaning against a desk. “I don’t play, but I hear they’re popular…”

“And about a dude named Vandal Savage? Owns three of those casinos?”

But Palmer obviously knew the name, given how he blanched at the words. “He’s tough,” he cut in, voice wavering a little. “I mean, I’ve heard. I know other people who’ve tried to hack his system, and…uh, Savage’s goons came looking for them.” His gaze darted about the room, as clear a tell as anything Mick had ever seen. “Roughed them up. Not a good idea to mess with him.”

“But you have,” Mick said shrewdly as Palmer paused. “Haven’t you? You wouldn’t be looking so damned shifty if you hadn’t.”

“Shifty?” The other man sounded indignant, drawing himself up to glare at Mick. “I am not _shifty_.” He grinned suddenly, though, unexpectedly. “Maybe I have gone looking in Savage’s computers, though. A little.”

Mick nodded, pleased. “And you didn’t get caught.”

“No…”

“Well, you’re right, Haircut. Savage _is_ bad news. And we’re gonna take him down. You in?”

The poor schmuck didn’t even ask what the expected take was. Some days it was just too easy.

* * *

**Two days before**

**Same hotel suite, Central City**

“You’re gonna want the old man for the card sharp, ain’t you?”

“Maybe.” Snart’s fingers drummed against the desktop where he’d taken a seat. “He kept his nose clean even with the casinos here? That’s a helluva lot of temptation.”

“Far as I can tell, he’s stayed away from it all, what with the job and the new grandson.” Mick shrugged as Snart glanced over at him in clear inquiry. “We sent a present. Some stuffed thing.”

Snart’s lips twitched. “Good.” He nodded then. “If he’s really stayed clean, then Savage won’t know him. That’s going to be rare, ‘specially with anyone local. But if he’s really out of the game…”

“You get this one, boss. He likes you better.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Mick didn’t dignify that with an answer.

* * *

**Scene change: one day later**

**A nice home in a upper-middle class section of Central City**

Leonard knew that Martin Stein was alone in his house; his wife was walking with the baby in a nearby park, while the daughter, Lily, was teaching a class at Central City University. She had the scientific career that her old man had let languish for his days dragging in the cash at illegal poker games, taking after his own old man from all that Leonard had heard.

Len and Stein had met over a few of those games, usually when Len had some other scheme afoot, and hit it off in a fairly unexpected way. They were two of the smartest people in the room, in just about every case, and soon Stein was an unofficial sort of member of Leonard’s Rogues, useful when a way with cards, sleight of hand, and a fairly innocent “older gent” sort of face were needed.

But Stein had pulled himself out of that life with a still-clean record and resumed teaching and the science-y sort of life—albeit at CC Community College instead of the university. The family seemed to be doing well. Len glanced around casually after knocking, noting the stroller and toddler toys on the porch, the immaculate flower beds, the well-kept lawn. Nice.

Some little decent part of himself deep inside pointed out that he could be responsible for all of this going away for Martin Stein. Len quashed it. They needed a card sharp. Stein was perfect.

There was a fairly obvious middle-of-the-line security system on the door, so Leonard wasn’t surprised when Stein was already ready with a resigned expression when he opened the door and faced his guest.

“No,” he said shortly, and started to close it again.

Leonard casually put out a hand and blocked it. “Why, Martin,” he drawled, “is that any way to treat an old friend?”

“Do you even have friends, Snart?” The older man let go of the door, drawing himself up and scowling at the younger man as Snart stepped inside, closing the door behind him and glancing around at the comfortable home. “Don’t you simply have people you use?”

“I’m hurt, Stein. Truly hurt.” Actually, he was. He’d let Stein out of the biz with good graces, until now. In fact, he’d even blocked others who’d wanted to try to pull the professor back into the game. “I have an offer. You can say no.”

“No.” Stein pointed at the door. “There. Done.”

“You know who Vandal Savage is?”

“I said…” Stein paused. “What?”

“Vandal…”

“I heard you.” The older man hesitated, then sighed. “Come in, Mr. Snart. Would you like something to drink?”

“Wouldn’t say no.”

A few minutes later, they were seated in that comfortable living room. Leonard let his eyes roam over the nice if occasionally older furniture, the bookcases stuffed full of volumes, the toys scattered here and there. He took a sip of his lemonade, stifling a faint sense of…not quite envy. “Nice place. Liking the professor life?”

“I am,” Stein allowed, from his own chair across from Len. “I rather wonder what would have happened if…well, if I’d resisted the siren song of the cards earlier.” He shrugged. “But the past is past. I like what I’d doing now. Teaching young minds…creating the future.” He smiled a little. “And Lily…she will change the world. Do you know what she’s working on? Actual time travel theory…”

Leonard let him go on a bit, then cut in more or less gently. “Stein,” he said quietly, “why did you react like that when I mentioned Savage?”

The older man’s mouth tightened. He took a drink himself, then sighed. “He’s a rising star, they say. Tough on troublemakers, and generous to the city. But in reality…he hasn’t been good for it, Mr. Snart,” he said, meeting Leonard’s eyes. “I’ve had students who’ve run afoul of him. He’s involved with the drug rings, so I’ve heard, and he encourages addictions of…varying sorts…in his casinos. I know of one young man who simply went missing after taking a job there. His family is terrified, but Savage has a good segment of the police department in his pay…or so I surmise. They love him.”

“What would you say if I asked you to help me take him down?”

Stein was silent a long moment, then met Leonard’s gaze, eyes narrowed. “As your ‘inside man,’ I imagine.”

“Of a sort. Savage doesn’t know you; you’ve been out of the game. You’d be the best possible person for this.” Leonard took a deep breath. “I’ll keep your role as squeaky clean as possible. I swear to you. And the take…it would be an awful nice college fund for the grandson of yours.”

Stein studied him. Leonard tried to keep his face as trustworthy as possible. For what it was worth, he’d meant everything he’d said.

Then the older man sat back in his chair, and Leonard knew he’d won.

“All right,” Stein allowed. “Fortuitously, I just took a semester off from the college. I even have the time. But…” He raised a finger. “I want to hear the plan out first, before I make a final decision. And I reserve the right to back out if I don’t like it.”

“Of course.”

“And…one other thing.” Stein hesitated, and Leonard frowned a little. He hadn’t expected another qualifier.

“Do you have any role for a…mechanic?” the professor asked carefully. “For this job. Because I know a certain young man who could truly use a…windfall.”


	3. I'm Listening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! I'll catch up eventually. :)

**Same day**

**A garage in a slightly lower-class/middle-class section of Central City**

“Mr. Jackson?”

The young man bent over a car in the far corner of the garage glanced up, clearly startled at the voice, nearly banging his head on a low overhanging light.

“Professor?” he asked in disbelief, reaching out for a rag and wiping his hands off. “What are you doing here?” He frowned at the tall shape that followed Stein into the building. “And who the heck are you? Professor…”

“It’s OK, Jefferson.” Stein gave the young mechanic a careful smile as he and Leonard moved into the space. “Ah. This is…”

“Liam Winters,” Leonard cut in smoothly, extending his hand to the other man and smiling pleasantly. “I’m an associate of Professor Stein’s. He suggested we might want to talk. About an…opportunity.”

Len would give the kid this. He didn’t just fall in, instead giving Stein quite the suspicious stink-eye as he leaned against the wall and considered them both.

“An opportunity,” Jefferson…Jax, Stein had said…repeated. ”That doesn’t sound quite…on the up and up.” He looked at Stein. “Professor.”

Stein cleared his throat, folding his hands in front of him. “Mr. … Winters,” he said to Snart, tone falling into the occasionally lecturing quality it had. “Mr. Jackson is a stellar student…and a gifted mechanic. However, he finds himself in need of funds to continue his college education…”

“My mom’s sick,” Jax cut in abruptly, casting quite a look at Stein. “And I only told you anything about it because I didn’t just want to…disappear…from classes without you knowing why.” He switched his gaze abruptly to Leonard. “I need the money for her treatment more than I need it for tuition. Right now, I don’t have enough for either…”

Leonard cut in, surprising even himself. “Do you want a job?” He cleared his throat, getting his bearings, as Jax blinked at him. “It’s not precisely…as you say, on the up and up. But I’ll guarantee your safety as much as I possibly can, and the money involved should be considerable. More than enough to help with your…problems.”

Jax stared at him a moment. Then he put the rag down and took his own deep breath. “I’m listening.”

* * *

**Two days before**

**Same hotel suite, Central City**

“We’re going to need a grease man.”

Mick snorted. “This would be easier if I had a full idea of what the fuck you were thinking,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he poured himself another drink. “OK. You got anyone in mind?”

“Maybe.” Snart, who’d finally poured a drink himself, took a sip. He looked off into the distance for a moment, then directed his gave back to Mick. “Meet me for coffee tomorrow.”

Mick blinked. “What?”

“Coffee. Tomorrow. CC Jitters. 10 a.m.”

*

**Scene change: one day later**

**10:10 a.m., CC Jitters**

Mick, rather hung over, slunk into the coffee shop at 10 minutes after the hour, cursing Snart and all his live choices over the past 24 hours. He gazed around blearily a moment, then crossed the room toward Snart, who was sitting at a table with his legs stretched out before him and drinking his coffee.

Before he even made a sound, Snart shoved a coffee toward him, and Mick subsided into the opposite chair, grunting in annoyance and taking a long drink from the mug. Still hot. He’d give Snart that, at least.

Neither of them spoke for a long few minutes, until Mick had enough strong caffeine inside him to feel almost human. Then, he sighed and leveled his gaze at Snart, who was still sipping his own drink—probably sweetened to the point of disgusting, from Mick’s point of view.

“OK. Talk.”

Snart didn’t twitch. He kept gazing toward the front of the coffee shop, looking thoughtful.

“Her,” he said finally, with a tip of the head. “The barista. To the right.”

Mick glanced over. Then back. “Huh.”

Another long moment. “Never seen her before. How do you…”

But Snart was already moving, unfolding those long legs to get to his feet and crossing to the counter as his partner blinked after him. Mick shrugged and took another drink. Whatever. Snart knew what he was doing.

Probably.

* * *

“Refill, please.”

The woman in front of him…Kendra Saunders, he knew…gave him a smile as she grabbed his mug and turned toward the carafes of coffee, filling it and then lashing a good amount of sweetener into it before turning back to him. Len thanked her politely, dropping a good tip into the jar and smiling cordially…

And then he leaned forward and murmured a name so that just she could hear.

Saunders stopped immediately, looking at him with narrowed and suspicious eyes. Then, after a long pause, she turned abruptly, addressing another employee nearby. “Char, would you take over for a few minutes? I have to deal with something.”

The other person shot Len a look but apparently decided to trust Saunders. “Gotcha,” they said, moving toward the counter. “Yell if you need…anything.”

“I will.”

Saunders pulled on her coat and ducked out the side door at the café, holding it open for Len somewhat grudgingly. She leaned against the wall across the way from the door, in a rather narrow alley, and watched him with a bit of a scowl. “How did you know that name?”

Len settled himself against the opposite wall, watching her. “Gotta lot of sources.”

“And did your _sources_ let you know anything more?” She glanced away, then back, eyes a combination of furious and uncertain. “Like where Carter Hall _is_ now?”

Len tilted his head at her. “Just that he went up against Vandal Savage…that you _both_ went up against Vandal Savage. And that you came out…and he didn’t.”

“How…” Saunders let out a long breath, then glared at him some more. “And what is it to you?”

He shrugged. “Not a fan of Savage myself. And…a little bird told me that there might be more to it than money.” A pause. “Was there?”

Saunders watched him another moment, then sighed.

“Savage…Savage is bad,” she said reluctantly, looking away. “He’s the city’s golden boy right now, but he’s a crime boss and a thug by any other name. And he’s…he’s a trafficker. We went in looking for evidence, but he caught us. Carter…I had to leave him. And I haven’t seen him since. I don’t have a good way to go in on my own…”

“Then don’t.”

*

* * *

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

Mick had fallen into pace with Leonard as he left CC Jitters, not long after the other man had come back inside the coffee shop with the mystery barista. Snart hadn’t said a word, just strolled away and past Mick, nodding to his partner as he’d passed. The pretty barista hadn’t looked at either of them, going right back to work, and Mick had just sighed, grabbing the remnants of his coffee (he’d have _liked_ a refill) and moving after Snart.

“We have a grease man,” the other man said in return now, gaze still directed again as he strolled away from the shop. “Grease woman? Does it matter?”

Mick didn’t give a fuck about the semantics. “The name? Fuck, no. But who is she? How’d you know about her?” Snart didn’t answer, again, and he found himself actually growling with frustration. “Goddamnit, Len…”

“When we’re inside.”

Mick waited with ill grace until they made it back to the hotel. He even waited as they crossed the lobby, and as they waited for an elevator. He stayed quiet as they rode toward the penthouse with other guests who got off at lower floors. But once they’d emerged and entered the suite…

“Spill it, Snart. Or I’m out.”

He got an infuriating shrug. “I had some intel,” Snart informed him as he crossed the room to look out the huge windows. “That _barista_ is a bit of a vigilante herself, with her partner Carter Hall. Who is currently a ‘guest’ of Vandal Savage. She’d like to get him out.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And to haul Savage himself in…as a human trafficker connected with the disappearance of many young girls.”

Mick stared at him. “And how did you know that.” It wasn’t quite a question. Suddenly, he had a very good idea just where Snart might have gotten that information. Although…

“Little bird told me.”

The bastard had planned to go after Savage all along. He’d known something even before that Hunter dickhead had kidnapped him. Mick swallowed a rush of irritation and let out a long breath.

“Little bird,” he repeated. “You mean…”

The door to the suite—which was supposed to have locked automatically behind them, and frankly probably had—opened again. Snart didn’t so much as flinch, which meant that neither did Mick, especially since he’d already guessed who has about to come stalking through that door.

“Goddamnit, Len, I didn’t ask you to get involved!”

The woman who entered wasn’t much taller than 5 feet, but she carried herself like the weapon she was: poised and balanced and ready for anything. Right now, “anything” seemed to be a certain amount of violence toward his partner, so Mick tactfully took a step back, clearing his throat and looking toward the furious newcomer.

“Hey, Blondie,” he said a little uncertainly. “Long time, no see.”

Sara Lance, belatedly noticing someone else in the room, slowed enough to send him a smile. “Mick,” she said with every evidence of warmth, “it’s really good to see you. And I can’t wait to catch up, but first, I need to straighten something out with your partner.”

The rather poisonous look she darted at the still-unflappable-looking Snart convinced Mick he did, indeed, want to be out of the room for this meeting. “Gotcha,” he said, edging toward the door. “Uh. Let me know if you need help getting the blood stains out of the carpet.”

“Thanks,” both Sara and Snart took him flatly, before looking back at each other with a flicker of surprise.

Mick nearly laughed. Instead, he beat a hasty retreat. The bar, he decided, had wings (and another stiff drink) with his name on it.

* * *

Leonard tried to keep himself from smirking at Mick’s inglorious flight from the room. It wasn’t too hard, wholly because the other person in the suite was a woman he hadn’t seen in far too long, one of very few people he’d ever considered himself close to, and one of the dangerous people he knew.

And she was looking at him with utter fury in those bright blue eyes.

Len sighed, then. Smiled, just a little, ruefully. And spoke.

“Hi, Birdie.”


	4. Little Bird

Sara Lance didn’t even react to the nickname, which even in less fraught encounters, she disliked. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes even more—which made her look conversely even more dangerous and even more adorable.

Not that he’d ever tell her that.

“I contacted you for general intel on Savage and Central City itself,” she snapped, “not because I wanted you to come back to Central, contact my friends, and set up some sort of sting operation on Savage yourself!”

Len lifted an eyebrow at her. “Good to see you, too,” he drawled, leaning back against the window frame. “Did you really expect to tell me about all the trouble going down in _my_ city … and have me not come back to do something about it?”

“Well, you haven’t been back for the previous three years of trouble,” Sara shot back at him mercilessly, expression hard. “Why the hell would I think you’d care _now_?”

Ouch. Len frowned, trying to conceal his reaction to that accusation.

Sara, he’d thought, should know him better than that. But that was garbage thinking, sentimental, and…

And he wasn’t sentimental.

Oh, fuck, he was. When it came to her, he was.

“Any number of reasons,” he said shortly after a moment, turning to look out the window again. _Some of which have to do with you._ “But I’d think you’d know that I wouldn’t…countenance…the things you told me about, happening in this city. And I thought, perhaps, that you’d want the backup.”

“Backup?” Sara scowled. “Snart, I _have this_. I don’t need your backup. No one asked you to turn up like…like a bad penny.”

That hurt. He kept his face impassive, trying not to show it, but that hurt.

“Everyone needs backup sometimes, Lance,” he said over his shoulder, keeping his voice even. “And I…know my city.”

Something in his voice must have leaked through. Through the corner of his eye, he saw Sara’s expression change, just a little.

She sighed.

“I know you do,” she said quietly, combative stance relaxing a bit. “I know you do. And I…” She ran a hand through unruly blond hair. “OK. Maybe help wouldn’t be…amiss. But damnit, Len, you need to tell me what you’re up to. I’m not one to just follow along, playing the good soldier, and you know it.”

“True enough.” Leonard turned back toward her, slowly, willing his discomfort off his face. “And you’d _never_ be second fiddle.” He met her eyes, icy blue to bright blue. “In any reality.”

Sara snorted at him, though at least the sound had an overtone of some amusement. “You mean I wouldn’t just be playing second-fiddle…or arm candy…to the great Leonard Snart? What possible reason could there be for _that_?”

Len smirked at her. “There are any number of good reasons,” he said, voice dropping as he took a step closer, now sure—relatively sure—she wasn’t going to use him for target practice. “Though I’d be lucky to have you as arm candy… But that’s not what I meant,” he added hastily as her eyes flashed again. “Here’s what I’m thinking…”

* * *

Mick wasn’t sure how long it’d been since he’d left…OK, fled…to the bar, but he was a little tipsy, just a little, really, when he made it back to the suite. He hesitated before using the key Snart had given him, staring at the door. With Blondie and Snart, you never knew what you’d be walking in on. Could be a bloodbath. Could be eye sex. Could be something entirely worse…

Finally, he shrugged philosophically and unlocked the door. His keys were still in there, and though he’d Uber back to his safe house (or rather nearby), he still needed to get in the door.

Initial impressions seemed…OK. No blood on the carpet, that he could see, anyway. Mick cautiously poked his head in the door, glancing around. No…questionable…sounds.

He edged in, then closed the door quietly behind him and cleared his throat, loudly.

Silence.

Then: A low chuckle from the main room.

“It’s OK, Mick,” he heard Snart say. “No bloodshed.”

Mick’s shoulders relaxed even as he snorted. “Not even half of what I was worried about,” he muttered, strolling farther into the suite.

The boss and Blondie were both sitting at the desk, one across from the other, both watching him, two hands of cards in their hands. Mick snorted again when he saw them. Of course it was cards. It was always cards, with them.

“Great,” he said, stopping. “You’re both alive.” He grabbed his keys off a side table. “Great. Don’t kill each other, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Snart idly shuffled a deck through his hands. He glanced at Sara, who smirked at him, then back at Mick. “You could stay here. Two bedrooms and the sofa. Plenty of room.”

Mick rolled his eyes. “Uh huh. No, gotta a safe house not so far away. Not so ritzy, but quiet and no…” He glanced back and forth between Snart and Sara. “…um, rampant…UST.”

Snart’s brow furrowed. “UST?”

Across from him, Sara snickered. Her eyes met Mick’s, and she winked. He rolled his eyes again in solidarity.

“Never mind,” Mick told him. “Heading to Star City tomorrow, Boss. I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

Leonard stared after the other man, frowning, even as Sara smirked down at her cards, amused. “Star City?” she asked idly, rearranging them. “And you didn’t even mention it?”

He shrugged as he glanced back at her, lifting his own cards from the table. “Contact there, and I…didn’t know if you knew him. So, Mick.”

“Hmm.” Sara watched him. “I should be going after this hand too.”

After a long moment, and another few moves, Len looked back at her. “You could stay here, too,” he said casually. “Plenty of room.”

Sara smiled into her cards, despite plenty of mixed feelings. “I’m staying with a friend,” she said to the king of hearts. “Tonight. After that, well, I wouldn’t mind the free space. If it’s OK with you.”

“Wouldn’t have mentioned it if it wasn’t.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

* * *

**Late afternoon, day three**

Jefferson “call me Jax” Jackson whistled as he looked around the penthouse suite, gazing at the huge space. “Man,” he said, looking over at Stein, “maybe this college thing is totally overrated.” He turned and looked at Stein, who was following him. “I mean, could you afford this?”

Stein grumped at him, looking around the space. He muttered something under his breath, then scowled at the younger man. “College, Jefferson,” he said pointedly, “is a far safer bet. And I’m hoping this…escapade…will help give you the resources to further your education after you’re done in the current program.”

Jax laughed at him, patting the professor on the back good-naturedly. Ray Palmer lurked in behind them, looking around the room with an odd, somewhat wistful expression. That changed, though, as soon as he clapped eyes on Sara, who was leaning against the desk and looking on with amusement.

“Sara!” he yelped—yeah, Mick decided with bemusement from where he watched nearby, yelped. “You…what are you doing here? How…”

Sara blinked, looking over at Mick, who shrugged. He’d had no idea that Haircut knew Blondie, though they were both from Star City. Snart wouldn’t like that much but done was done.

He took a pull from his beer. Blondie’d been here when he arrived, ‘bout noon, after setting up…well, setting some other things up. He didn’t _think_ she’d stayed the night, and Snart and her were still doing the whole eye-sex routine over building plans, so apparently the UST was still a thing.

Bah. They needed to get this outta their systems…or settle in with it. Either way. He wouldn’t mind Blondie as part of the family more officially. Just not like this, this stupid limbo.

Blondie had accepted Haircut’s enthusiastic hug, but she’d also stepped back after that, still looking amused. “Ray. I take it you’re the techie.” She looked over at Mick, lifting an eyebrow. He shrugged. “Hmm.”

“Yeah, I met Mick a while back and…” Ray blinked. “OK, you’re involved in this, erm, job?” He looked around, eyes widening. “Does Laurel know? Does…”

“Ray,” Sara said firmly, lifting a hand. “Let’s not drag anyone else into this, OK? Focus on the job.” She smiled at him, offsetting the firm tone. “I’ve known Leonard and Mick a while. Just didn’t know you knew them too.”

The inventor looked disappointed but nodded. “Uh. Right.” He looked around, gaze landing on Stein and Jax, who’d been watching the conversation with amusement. Mick shook his head as he advanced on them with outstretched hand, beaming.

“Hi!” Ray said brightly, grabbing Stein’s hand and shaking as the professor gave him a quizzical look. “I’m Ray Palmer. I know Mick. And Leonard, sorta. And Sara…”

“Palmer…” Stein said slowly as he reclaimed his hand and Ray gave a somewhat bewildered Jax the same treatment. “From Star City? Are you…?”

Just like that, Haircut’s light dimmed a little. “Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “Yeah, I am. Related to _him_ , you mean? Yeah…”

And with that, he turned and walked away. Mick took another drink. Huh.

Stein and Jax had just exchanged looks when there was a tentative knock on the door. Mick tensed briefly, although he was also amused to see how the other various parties in the room reacted instinctively to the noise. Sara tensed, fixing her eyes on it, always ready for things to take a turn for the more dangerous. Ray turned, smile overtaking his face again, as if always ready to meet a new friend. (Honestly, the man was the human version of a golden retriever.) Jax simply looking curious. Stein did as well, but it was mixed with a faint air of guilt. Seemed the professor wasn’t as nonchalant about getting back in the game as he seemed.

After these observations (people didn’t expect you to be observant when you looked like Mick), he shrugged, put the beer down, and crossed to door, checking the peephole before pulling it open.

The hooded figure there tipped its head back. Kendra Saunders gave him a small smile, apparently recognizing him from Jitters that day, and Mick took a step back, opening the door wider and letting her in. The barista/vigilante entered cautiously, relaxing a little more and pulling her hood back as she saw Sara, scanning the rest of the room. But before even Haircut could greet the new arrival, another voice interrupted, the door to the master bedroom swinging open, and Snart made an entrance in that way he was so goddamned good at.

(It was irritating as fuck, really, but Mick was used to it. He picked up his beer again, draining it.)

“Ms. Saunders,” the boss said in the that low, smug drawl, adjusting the cuffs of his dark gray suit as he sauntered into the main area. “Last but certainly not least of our little band here. Welcome.”

His icy blue gaze swept over them all—pausing just the tiniest bit, Mick was amused to see, at Sara, like it always did. He yawned and belched, catching the briefest quirk of Snart’s lips at the insolence. Jax straightened as if at a job interview, looking a little uncertain. Stein looked a touch bored—good for the old man. Haircut, of course, looked eager. Saunders focused on Snart, frowning a little.

And Sara returned that laser gaze with one of her one, challenging and heated, bright blue to ice blue, sparks nearly visible between them.

Mick sighed. Seriously, even with this many people in the room, they wouldn’t can it?

But while it might have seemed like eons, it was only really a moment before Snart seemed to give himself a miniscule shake, one probably not even apparent to anyone but Mick and Sara, and moved farther into the suite.

“Our little band of thieves,” he mused, glancing around as he walked to the desk and turned, gazing around the room again. “Because make no mistake, that’s ultimately what we are.” The smooth voice hardened a touch as he looked from person to person. “This is not a legal enterprise, ladies and gentlemen. If you’re under the impression it is, disabuse yourself of that notion now. If you’re caught—not that you will be—you’re in a great amount of trouble. And I won’t be running to your rescue.” A weighty pause. “I am _not_ a white knight. Do not think that I am.”

Into the quiet following this pronouncement, though, Sara’s snicker sounded even louder. Mick glanced over as she smirked at Snart, posture still just as casual, eyes gleaming.

“We get it,” she told him. “You’re a bad ass. A dramatic one. The point?”

Snart gave her a withering look, but he did can the drama. Most of it, anyway. He did continue surveying the room, eyes serious, as if waiting for a response.

Ah. Mick nodded to himself. The three of them…it was different. Snart could be an asshole, but he wasn’t, at heart, a real dick.

It was the barista who spoke up first, tone firm. “Savage is evil,” she said, looking around. “And I don’t care what anyone else’s motive is. He needs to taken down. And I’m getting Carter back.”

Silence for a moment. Then Haircut put up his hand tentatively. “I don’t know who Carter is,” he admitted, looking at Saunders with those puppy-dog eyes. “But Savage…someone should stop him. I’m here for that.”

Stein cleared his throat next. “I said I was in before,” he told them, “though I still want to hear more about this plan of yours, Mr. Snart. And despite your fine words, I presume that you won’t throw the rest of us to the wolves gratuitously. So, for now, yes, I am in.” His expression flickered a little when he looked at the young man with him, though. “Jefferson?”

Jax hesitated, studying the rest of those in the room. Then he sighed, spreading his hands out before him.

“Man, I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t get in trouble…I can’t leave my mom on her own. Not now.”

Mick watched as Snart’s laser gaze softened a little at the kid’s words, though only someone who knew him better than most would have seen it.

“I can promise I won’t be ‘throwing you to the wolves gratuitously,’ Mr. Jackson,” he said, throwing a look at Stein, who merely shrugged. “And your role should be…out of danger more than most. But I can make you no promises about that ultimately.” He paused, and then added something that actually made Mick blink. “I will promise that your mother will be looked after as much as it’s in my power, no matter what. And that includes financially.”

Blondie actually made a quiet sound at those words, and Mick glanced over to see her staring at Snart with her heart in her eyes even more than usual. Heh.

Jax didn’t seem to realize just how profound a promise that was for Snart. He thought a bit more and then nodded, decisive.

“Then I’m in,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “OK.”

Snart nodded back. He glanced around the room around, took a breath, and smirked.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said again, smirk growing. “We’re going to rob Vandal Savage blind. We’re going to take everything he holds dear. We’re going to ruin him, and we’re going to run him out of _my_ city.”

“ _Our_ city,” Stein fired at him. Snart ignored him.

“And we’re going to do that by using his own organization against him,” he said, voice lowering to nearly a growl. “We’re going to be fucking _legends_.”

Legends. Mick rather liked the sound of that.


End file.
